


Didactical

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Category: Castle Rock (TV), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Family, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-13 23:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: AU of an AU/Crossover. Minor compensation is still compensation, Connor.(Like a very underwhelming version of The Hostage.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another mini fic that may or may not evolve into a spinoff of _Trifecta_. Takes place after chapter eight.
> 
> We have a tentative plot in mind. Besides that, the world needs more Ralph. No other reason. We love our feral Michael Fassbender. ^-^

The AX400 was long gone.

The WR600 was not.

——-

“Back! _Back_ , all of you! You won’t come into Ralph’s space, not again!”

Here’s a riddle. How many RK800s does it take to uproot one stubborn gardener model?

Dennis didn’t know. But just the same, he had his two partners on standby. Having left the scene of the rundown old house, he thought the capable hands of the Detroit Police Department would be sufficient in keeping their proxy find in custody.

Which, in all fairness, he still was.

He had barricaded himself in the time it took them to trek back from the highway.

And he was adamant in defending it.

“Eh! No! Keep your - _peepers_ to yourself!”

Leaning down to peer through a gap in one of the boarded-up windows, as if to check and see if Ralph were there, Nick barely jumped back in time to avoid the knife jabbing through.

Hand on the doorknob, Dennis paused in his efforts to shoulder the only entrance open. “I really should’ve checked for weapons. Before.”

Nick sighed, as if to say _you think?_ He crept to safety behind his partner, drawn up more to avoid any other eye level injuries that could occur if Ralph deigned it necessary. Which, judging from the way he was going about handling the intrusion now, he definitely did. 

“Hopefully that's all he has, then.”

“Ralph, it’s just us, Dennis and Nick, remember?” Speaking up over the weather, Dennis tried twisting the handle. It didn’t budge. “Come on. Can you let us back in?”

Inane as the request sounded, this wasn’t an android who thought much of flowery words and overly-elaborate assurances.

Better to keep things simple, concise, easy to -

“ _No!_ Go away.”

“Ralph, please,” Nick tried his luck with the android, still lingering behind Dennis, just in case something went awry. “Let us in. It's gonna be okay, we promise.” 

Watching (as yet) quietly from the opposite corner of the house, Connor raised an eyebrow.

_Didn’t you say there was a back entrance?_

Nick hesitated, before nodding his head slightly. _Yes, but… that would probably scare him worse, us trying to sneak in. Should at least make sure he's calm -_

“Ralph doesn’t believe you. You hurt Ralph, you chased Kara and the little girl. You’re not Ralph’s friends, you’re mean, dangerous. You’re not honest. You like to trick people. You need to leave. Now. … _Shoo._ ”

Dennis frowned.

The human policemen lingering just outside the property fence - their ‘backup’ - had to be dying of repressed laughter by now.

_...Someone’s opinionated._

_Shut up, Connor._

Putting his shoulder against the door, Dennis gripped the knob again. “Ralph. We’re not going anywhere until you come out.”

“What can we do to… convince you we won't trick you?” Nick asked, trying for a different route. Perhaps there was a way they could get the feral deviant to rapidly change his mind? 

A shuffling sound emitted from inside - receding, as opposed to getting closer.

Followed by the sound of another door clicking shut, silence fell inside the house.

“Ralph?” Chancing a look between the boards, and not immediately being stabbed in the face for it, Connor glanced sidelong at them. _Try the door again?_

 _We break it down, we’re just asking for more mayhem once we get in there._ Dennis mimed a sigh. Evidently, their quarry had retreated into the kitchen. Or had gone upstairs. _You haven’t_ seen _this one, Connor. He’s all about reactions. Not thinking things through is his… problem._

A second later, the plan revealed itself.

——-

“Ralph. We’re opening the door now. …This is Connor. He isn’t going to hurt you.”

Sent in on the basis he had not actually met this peculiarly-minded deviant in person. It was hardly the safest, most low-risk plan ever, but it was a start.

Assured only in the knowledge he could handle himself in the evident self-defense was warranted, Connor willed his face blank before stepping inside.

Deviancy was not the android equivalent of rabies, correct? One scratch was all it took to alter a given way of thinking?

Listening for the door closing behind him, he spared his partners one last quip: _The lieutenant asks, this was your idea. Both of you._

Dennis scoffed over the commlink. _Fine. Guilty. Can we move on, now?_

 _Be careful,_ Nick piped up, forever making sure of everyone's safety, or lack there of it. _Don't get hurt, Connor._

There was more shuffling from what presumably used to be the kitchen, before a thin, frightened voice called out at the words, still not showing himself to Connor. “No, you lie! Go away, Ralph doesn't want you here.” 

There were the smoldering embers of a former fire marinating in the hearth. Besides a pile of boxes, an old standup arcade game, and a table with three chairs arranged around it, the room was empty.

Oh, and the very big, burnt-black rat on a plate.

For a moment, Connor found himself hesitating to cross the floor. “Ralph? We haven’t met before. You can… trust me.”

He hesitated again in seeing the rat at a closer vantage point.

The corpse had been stabbed several times over, by the look of it. Greasy black trails of offal had leaked out from beneath its lumpy form.

“No, new people lie, say they won't hurt Ralph, say it will be okay…” The footsteps shuffled further back as Ralph hissed his words out, trying to put even more distance between himself and Connor. “Go away, _now!_ ”

Daniel had been easier to talk down. That much was already apparent.

“Ralph, I’m here to help. Please.” Creeping up to the half-open door, he pushed it open and peered inside, but did not step over the threshold. “You know you’re… in trouble, right?”

Stricken, Ralph stared at him from the corner he had pushed himself into, one hand out in front of him with the knife clutched in a deathgrip, shaking from fear or anger - or both, most likely. “But Ralph didn't do anything, he helped! He wants to be left alone, no more people!” 

“We can’t do that, Ralph. The humans know you’re here now. The _police_ know.” Considering the deviant’s scarred, ruined visage, Connor paused. “You don’t want to be hurt again. Right?”

Ralph let out an angry yelp, taking half a step forward from his corner, shuffling to the side as if to try and circle him. “No - no more hurt, humans will hurt Ralph. You'll help hurt him! You want Ralph out and hurt!” 

Hand on the doorframe, Connor kept a frown from forming. His attire certainly wasn’t earning him any positive points. It looked like an almost-copy of his partners’.

And Ralph was - in a word - crazy, not stupid.

“How do you know _I_ do? We’ve never met.”

Eyes narrowing, he seemed to pause, as if trying to consider the words in his own logic, before letting out another half-hiss. “You're with the others, they hurt Ralph. You want me hurt, too.” 

“We don’t want anything, Ralph. We’re just here to help. Look.” Palms out, Connor stepped into the kitchen. “No gun, no knife. If anyone can hurt… anybody here, it’s you.”

Ralph looked down at the blade he was holding, but didn't make any moves to put it away. He didn't make any moves to try and hurt Connor either, which was in itself a good step, it seemed. “You… could try to hurt Ralph. Could be a trick. Others tricked him.” 

“I see that.” Carefully, Connor sidestepped away from the door. Perhaps if he weren’t blocking the only exit the former gardener wouldn’t feel so cornered. He declined the temptation to look at the rA9 graffiti adorning the walls around them. “Your face… did they trick you that time?”

Ralph froze at the mention of his face, knife wavering in his grip. After a tense moment he spoke, voice shaking as he did so. “Humans tricked Ralph, hurt him. Hurt him bad. Ralph doesn't want to be hurt, anymore.” 

“If we leave you alone, Ralph, the humans in this neighborhood may hurt you after we’ve gone. Do you understand? We’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“...Really?” Ralph asked, frowning as he did. But at least he wasn't immediately dismissing the notion. “You... want to help Ralph?” 

“Just help, that’s all.” Nodding, Connor dared to take a step closer. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, and I’m sorry Dennis and Nick tricked you. They only wanted to help - before, but things didn’t work out that way. Kara just… didn’t want our help.”

The less said about her, the better. No need to muddy the waters any more than he was, making potentially-false promises.

“They wanted to hurt Kara, and the little one,” Ralph retorted, but sounded less certain in himself than before. He took an actual step closer to Connor, knife no longer pointed at him, but just in his grip. “Don't lie to Ralph. No more tricks, don't… let anyone hurt Ralph.” 

“Come with us, and you won’t be, all right?” Eying said knife, Connor nodded toward it. “Why don’t you put that down, then we’ll see about talking to Dennis and Nick?”

Eyes narrowing, Ralph fervently shook his head no, hand with the knife going back to his chest. His LED flicked between red and yellow. “No! Ralph keeps the knife, in case you trick him. He - will talk to others, but he will not put the knife down.” 

“That’s hardly fair, Ralph. You have a weapon, and they don’t.” Affecting a disgruntled look, Connor offered a hand. “What if I kept it for you? The three of you can talk, make peace, and then you can have it back?”

Ralph looked down at the proffered hand for a moment, before suddenly drawing back the hand with the knife and aiming straight for it, quick enough Connor couldn't even think to move it as he was stabbed.

He thought to move a millisecond later.

“ _There_. Ralph gave you the knife.” 

With only a threadbare grimace, Connor rotated his wrist to inspect the damage. The blue-stained tip stuck out at least three inches from the back of his hand. Driven in between the metacarpal struts, the rounded handle pointed like some obscene fifth finger.

It looked worse than it felt.

——-

Admitted for the aforementioned talk, Dennis promptly busted up laughing at the sight. “Now there’s a vote of confidence. You’re just gonna leave it like that?”

To the contrary, Nick gaped at his hand with the knife with a horrified look on his face, taking a step back in surprise. “Connor, why didn't you say anything? You got hurt!” 

_Wasn’t that, in part, the idea?_

Anyone else might have rolled their eyes, faced with such differing reactions. Being who he was, Connor did no such thing. He had other issues to address, and a too recent memory of not crossing a highway to remind himself of latent failures. “Ralph has agreed to talk. This was - part of the negotiation.”

Dennis snorted, barely stifling another round of snickers. “If you say so. I’m definitely including it in the dossier, though. With a snapshot.”

Behind him, still a few feet away, Ralph was decidedly still nervous, shifting from foot to foot as the four of them made an uneasy group - and he was the odd one out. His anger had drained away, leaving only tumultuous twitching in its wake. “He wanted the knife. Ralph gave him the knife.” 

Giving a sigh at the painfully-blunt explanation, Nick let out a mumble, “I don't think that's _exactly_ what he meant…”

Fully aware of how his LED was remaining a stubborn red (notice, notice the problem, it cried), Connor flexed his impaled hand as best he could. The serrated steel bent only so far before springing back to a straight shape.

“For our purposes, it’s good enough.”

Dennis scoffed and shook his head. “Well, we lied to you, and then let you stab our brother, Ralph. Are we even?”

“Even…” Ralph trailed off, letting out a twitch before amending. “For now.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Among the many games humans had invented, one basic pastime was known as the “staring contest”.

In which androids had a natural (and rather unfair) advantage over their organic counterparts.

As it turned out, Ralph liked to play games - even without knowing it.

——-

The twitching had stopped. That was the first sign something was afoot.

Nick wanted to take a step (or several) back from Ralph, but thought that might not go over so well. As lax as people were with him, they were supposed to be keeping the other, clearly unstable android as calm as they possibly could while deciding what to do with him.

The humans were taking their sweet time going about procedure, in other words. How many neighbors were there to possibly interview in the immediate vicinity?

And Connor had to get the knife out of his hand, leaving him and Dennis to momentarily watch over Ralph. Leaving wasn't exactly an option, not even when it became increasingly apparent that he was the new center of the scarred deviant’s attention.

Glancing back over to him nervously, Nick's worries were confirmed. Ralph wasn't twitching anymore, instead his face was turned toward him, eyes boring into his own.

(Or - was it eye, singular? Could he still see out of the left one?)

It went awry as soon as Dennis stepped into the kitchen, without warning, seemingly intent on investigating the deviant’s many craggy carvings of rA9.

Hands folded at chest level, Ralph gave a twitch and only a question by way of precursive warning: “Humans. Did they… trick you, too?”

Nick opened his mouth, but closed it after a minute, unsure of what to say. When Ralph said trick, he obviously meant hurt. No human had ‘hurt’ him, right? He should say no, that was clear, but something in him was shaking its head at giving that answer. It didn't feel right, the same way he didn't look right in a mirror.

Funny, how a question that should give a simple answer instead only led him to even more confusion.

“I don't… think so,” Nick finally admitted, shrugging as he did so. “Least, not so far.”

The staring seemed to resume. Ralph gave another twitch, brows furrowing. He stepped to one side, peering at the prototype android from another angle, as if the light weren’t quite right for what he was trying to look at.

Then, with just as much suddenness, he pounced.

“Let Ralph see!”

Nick let out a half-muffled shriek as hands wrapped around the sides of his face, yanking him down to Ralph's eye level, faces inches apart as he was forcibly held still. Ralph seemed to be studying his eyes, and for a moment Nick thought of closing them. That would most likely just serve to make the other android angry, though - best to just go with the moment.

“See? Different colors,” Nick mumbled awkwardly, trying to resist the urge of looking elsewhere - or immediately crying for help. “Brown and green.”

“They tricked you, too,” the deviant almost breathed the words, visibly caught between amazement and dismay. His LED winked yellow. “They made you wrong.”

At that Nick did look away for a moment. Even if Ralph was only talking about his eye color, it still rang true for all of him. Was he made wrong? It would explain why he was the way he was - why Connor thought he was just a useless thorn. Swallowing harshly, he forced his eyes back to the deviant, vision going fuzzy as he did so.

“Just… just different colors.” He tilted his head down so they were more eye level, able to stare at each other easily. “That's all.”

Seeming to realize the somber implications behind their words, Ralph let go, mindful enough to take a step back. Self-consciously, he rubbed his hands together - scored, maimed knuckles that clearly had not been spared the same rough treatment as his face.

“Ralph is sorry. Ralph didn’t notice, before. Is that why… why you tricked Ralph? Humans tricked you first. Ralph knows what that… feels like.”

“It's okay. I'm sorry I tricked you, Ralph.” The same urge he felt to always make sure Dennis or Connor were okay rose again for the android in front of him. Putting his hands up, Nick gave him a small smile to try and calm him. “I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry humans tricked you as well… that's why we're here. To try and help.”

He purposefully avoided any talk of whether humans tricked him as well. Best to just focus on what he knew for certain, than anything he couldn't 100% confirm either way.

Even if he could, Ralph would only press with more insistent questions.

With a shaky smile Ralph’s eyes darted toward the kitchen door, only a moment, before refocusing. “Ralph knows that. Connor said the humans know Ralph is here now. Ralph doesn’t want to be hurt again, but being alone won’t keep him safe anymore. Not like it did.”

“You won't be alone anymore, or hurt.” Maybe that was too big a promise, but if there was anything he could do to make it come true, for the better, he would. “We'll do our best to make sure of that, for you.”

The smile veered into a half grin, only to crumble at the sound of footsteps.

Dennis poked his head through the door. “Ralph, you know there’s… a dead bird in here?”

He turned with a flinch, hands wringing. “Yes… y-yes, why?”

“Among other things…” Dennis remarked, frowning. As yet, he was the one of them Ralph regarded with the least credibility. No wonder he provoked such a nervous reaction. Cautiously, he stepped into the living room. “There’s money on the counter next to it.”

Money… how would Ralph get his hands on something like that? The dead bird could be explained away far easier.

Hunching under his improvised cloak, the deviant rocked from foot to foot, looking between them with clear anxiety. “That - no, Ralph just found it. Ralph knows he can’t - spend it. But he can keep it. …Can’t he?”

“Where did you find it, Ralph?” Nick asked as gently as he could, shuffling to put himself closer to Dennis, almost in the middle, between the two of them - classic peacekeeper stance. For now, it was best to not answer if he could keep the money or not - he didn't want to inadvertently trick Ralph again. “Just outside? Already in the house?”

The twitching seemed to intensify. The wringing hands clenched around each other. “Eh… it-it was already in the house.”

“Upstairs, or downstairs?” He kept questioning, careful to not have any implications in his tone, or anything like that.

Dennis folded his arms, but wisely kept quiet.

Eyes darting, going a touch rounder in the process, Ralph stammered, “Dow… downstairs. It was downstairs, when Ralph found it. Ralph’s clothes, they’re old. It-it was in one of the pockets.”

“Your clothes are android issue, Ralph,” Dennis observed, passively despite his clearly-piqued suspicion. “Androids don’t carry cash.”

“We're not gonna trick you again if you tell us the truth, Ralph. We're just wondering where you got it. Can you tell us?”

Cycling through his very limited options, the deviant’s face screwed up in distress. He was clearly no more skillful a liar than he was a chef. “Ralph - Ralph didn’t mean any _harm_.”

Dennis raised an eyebrow at the whinging change in tone. “What’s going on, Ralph? What’re you hiding now?”

“What… harm didn't you mean?” Nick frowned, tilting his head in confusion. “What happened?”

Sniffling, he backpedalled toward the kitchen. “You don’t know. You w-won’t help Ralph if you know.” With a cut-off yelp he stepped closer to the fireplace as Dennis intercepted his attempted retreat. “No! You won’t.”

Hands going back up to show they meant no harm themselves, Nick crept closer as well. Already this felt like a potential repeat of rooting out the fugitive AX400. “Why not? If you let us know what it is, we could. Can you… try, to tell us?”

Conflict writ large across his face, the deviant half-stumbled over the pillow, left on the floor beside the hearth. Glancing fearfully down at it, the reminder of who he had once tried to cover for was all too abrupt.

“Ralph didn’t _mean_ it. He didn’t.” Quivering, he went for the nearest place of corner, shoving the sagging stack of cardboard boxes aside, just far enough to squeeze behind them.

Arms still crossed, Dennis’ raised eyebrow lowered. He tried to feign idleness, scratching at his chin.

_There’s something more here, Nick, but he won’t say what. Did you see anything upstairs, before?_

_Didn't get far enough to really see anything,_ he admitted, taking a step back from where Ralph had hidden himself, arms crossing with some defeat. _Not much, just a couple of rooms I peeked in, before they ran. You think there could be something more?_

Despite the temptive sarcastic bait, just hanging there for the taking, Dennis glanced back at the stairway with the utmost seriousness.

 _I’ll give it another pass. Don’t let him go_ anywhere _. Got it?_

Giving another glance at Ralph, cowering half hidden, he nodded. _I'll make sure he doesn't go anywhere._

This wouldn’t turn into a repeat of Ortiz’s.

Another anxious, grating whine sounded out as Dennis wordlessly climbed the stairs.

——-

“Count of three: one… two… three!”

With a wet, rasping _schick_ the steak knife was pulled back through the patient’s hand like a switchblade retracting. Those human personnel watching the process unfold flinched, some of them turning away or emitting sympathetic groans.

Nonplussed as ever, Connor held still, arm held out at length. Blue blood dripped from his fingertips into the dirtied snow by his feet.

Plastic gloves donned, Hank Anderson didn’t look impressed with the decided lack of response. Delicately, he deposited the blue-stained weapon in a plastic evidence bag. “Y’know, if you’re trying to make me feel sorry now, that’s a piss-poor way to do it.”

“I appreciate your forewarning all the same, Lieutenant.” Refraining from the mention of ‘promising’ to return the blade, Connor flexed his hand. The cables operated accordingly. It had only been a clean puncture, easily fixable once the thirium clotted.

Anderson still pulled a face at the gruesome show, but only turned back to fish a dermal patch out of the open kit. “How the hell he even pull that over you? You let him stab you or somethin’?”

“Yes.”

Basically.

Sending the helicopter away for Daniel - it had been virtually the same reasoning. A means of establishing rapport, and it certainly wasn’t something a human could do with as comparatively few repercussions.

Hank scoffed, turning around with a shake of his head and an even more bemused expression. “Jesus. ‘Course you did. Guess we should just be glad it was you, and not someone else.”

That was what humans meant by being a team player, correct?

_Connor!_

Breaking in unannounced, Dennis shouting against his inner ear elicited a violent flinch. A second later, his LED remembered to chirp, notifying him of an incoming message.

_W-what, Dennis? What’s so urgen-_

_Get back in here! Stat!_

——-

So, upon review, it was abundantly clear how they had each managed to learn everything, and nothing, all at the same time.

Ortiz’s housekeeper had been easier to corner in an overhead attic. The only possible escape routes there were the trapdoor, or a small picture window. Hounded into a corner, he had promptly surrendered upon knowing there was no way out.

The AX400, Kara, had timed her escape just so, waiting until both investigators were preoccupied. She bolted and ran like a gazelle the moment the front door became unobstructed. Taking a back alley to the fence had let her and the little girl obtain a sufficient head start.

In a sudden fit of panic, Ralph tried for the lot’s back door, through the kitchen. Observation alone wasn’t enough to keep him restrained.

Per Dennis’ suggestion, upon finding there was an overly-ripe human corpse in the upstair’s bathtub, Connor intercepted him before he ever made it to the fence.

The scarred deviant stopped short with a nervous yelp and promptly reversed direction.

“Ralph didn’t mean to hurt him, _no_ , not that bad,” he ranted, effectively pincered from both sides by all three RK800s. “He wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t give Ralph a chance to explain, _please_.”

Nick took a step closer, hands still up in mock surrender. “Wouldn't let you explain… what, Ralph?”

Given that moment to try and compose himself, their suspect glanced around, nearly spinning in place to look at them all. “Ralph never - never took anything. He - he was here before the man was, this was his place, his, no one else’s. This couldn’t be - no one else has ever been here, only Ralph.”

Connor tried to make heads or tails of that rambling explanation. Without having examined the scene for himself, it was hard to discern what Ralph meant by ‘never taking anything’.

Literal or not, it seemed like there had been a difference of opinion between the two squatters.

_Did you ID the body, Dennis?_

Lingering just outside the kitchen door, the redheaded android scoffed. _Yes, but I don’t see this being his last known place of residence. The lot has been abandoned for at least six years. The advertisement outside leads to a dead end phone number._

“So, he… tried to make you leave? He tried to trick you, something like that?” Moving one hand up, Nick pointed at his eyes for some reason, nodding as he did so. “Hurt you?”

Twitching at the reminder, Ralph’s arms wound around himself. “No, no, that - other humans did that. Ralph, he tried to explain, tried to share. There were enough rooms. The man had his, for a few days, no trouble. Ralph didn’t take anything, but the man, he misplaced his money, his belongings. A misunderstanding. It was a misunderstanding, is all.”

At that Connor couldn’t keep a dubious frown from forming.

A misunderstanding that led to a slit throat?

“He thought you took it. Did you think we wouldn't be able to… understand?” Nick kept asking questions, steering around mentions of the dead body itself. “About what happened, we wouldn't believe you?”

Sniffing, Ralph glanced around again. Evidently he didn’t see any friendly faces among them. His good eye glimmered with unshed tears. “You - you didn’t believe Ralph before, about Kara and the little girl. Ralph lied to protect them. Ralph couldn’t protect them… Ralph can’t protect himself. Ralph is alone. No one will protect him, but himself.”

The gash in Connor’s palm seemed to twinge at the thought.

_And that’s why he’s so partial to the knife._

_Honestly, Connor, why wouldn’t he be? It’s his only means of defense._ Venting a sigh, Dennis leaned on the doorframe. Outwardly, he seemed quite resigned to just where they had wound up - on the verge of delivering bad, bad news. “Be that as it may, Ralph, this changes things… quite a bit.”

“Changes?” Ralph parroted. “Changes, h-how?”

“You killed a human.”

Recoiling behind the cover of boxes, their pitiful excuse for a suspect quailed. “But Ralph didn’t mean to! He _didn’t_.”

“Just because you didn't mean to, doesn't make it less bad,” Nick mumbled, mostly to himself, before sighing. “What did you mean to do, then? Just get him away?”

“He wouldn’t _leave_. Wouldn’t leave Ralph alone, even when Ralph asked. He tried to hurt Ralph. Ralph had to make him go away. He had to.” Reduced to feeble whimpers, that seemed to be as close to an explanation as they would currently get.

Dennis sighed over the comm. _Guess you both know what this means._

 _The victim overstayed his welcome - that’s one possibility._ Glancing over at the still-set table, Connor raised an eyebrow. _And yet… Ralph went to the trouble of making a ‘meal’ for his most recent ‘guests’?_

CyberLife was going to have a field day with this case.


End file.
